this ship is sinking fast
by xXLookAPandaXx
Summary: Because a bruised ego stings, Puckerman knows that now. And Mercedes has known for years.


**Title:** this ship is sinking fast  
**Author:** **xpandapoo**  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Pairing:** Mercedes Jones/Noah Puckerman  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee, yeah?  
**Summary:** She wasn't some rebound, but that didn't stop Puckerman from approaching her with a slanted smile.  
**-----**

Mercedes Jones isn't meant to be a back up singer. And she sure as hell isn't meant to be a rebound for some slobbering dog. She's at some party---which she and Kurt snuck into. [Because they weren't only fabulous, but sly as foxes.] It's then that she realized, that well the only attention she'd planned on recieving ammounted up to just about nothing. She's not comfortable here, seeing as its not her crowd or her scene. Sure, Kurt's here but he found himself a nice eye candy to chat up a bit. [Fancy that, he made a connection but she couldn't] Tina's in the room to her left---and that should make this whole shindig more bareable, but it doesn't. Because she's too busy trying to make Artie talk to her again. Mike and Matt, well, she didn't know them all that well---and there was Santana and Brittany. Chances are, they wouldn't want to be interrupted. Who knew when they would just go down and do their stuff like rabits do, hell, she didn't know.

She wasn't some rebound, but that didn't stop Puckerman from approaching her with a slanted smile. She'd seen him talking up Quinn---who, clearly didn't have the patience to deal with him. And rejection does sting, she'd known that for years. Puckerman clearly wasn't used to it. He had worked the room, every inch and every square. Rachel Berry even shook her head, gave him a pat on the shoulder and kiss on the cheek. [Of course, she was wound up over Finn---or that's what the rumors were.] So, now he finds himself in front of her with a misplaced confidence. He's whispering words to her, as if it's meant to charm her. She's handed a cup of red punch [which smells of vodka]. She drinks half the cup, because really, she hadn't anything better to do.

"So, we could like, go into another room." He suggests, stuffing his hands in his pockets and flashing her a sharp toothed grin.

Mercedes isn't some moron, she got what he was hinting at. He wanted in her cotton undergarments. Well, fuck him if he honestly thought he had a chance of getting in them. A fit body wouldn't get him a good nights fuck when it came to Mercedes. Like hell she was going to get bumped up and become another Quinn. [Minus the fact that Quinn and her were nothing alike...but the point being there couldn't be more than one Juno at McKinley.] She pulled a face of disgust, stepping back away from him and placing her empty punch cup on the table behind her, before snapping back to look at an approaching Puck. He stumbled and swayed from side to side---affects of the alcohol, no doubt.

He thinks she's kidding, and she watches as he laughs her off. Because really, who rejects Noah Puckerman? Mercedes Jones isn't a sucker for popularity [maybe she'd date for money---but she could live without power that came from fucking a football player.] She's not here to nurse Puck's bruised ego, or to take care of his needs. She's here for herself. Well---that was a lie, she was here for Kurt. None the less, she didn't need to be seen as some piece of meat for him to have his way with. Placing her hands on a cocked hip, and arching a brow she scoffed at his advances. Honestly, who did he think he was?

"Come on 'cedes." He cooed kissing just bellow her ear. [It worked for most sixteen year old girls he's tried this on, but Mercedes doesn't squirm or moan his name.]

Instead, he hears a whispered "Hell to the no." And he feels a sudden physical impact, of a flat palm to the side of his face. She slapped him. Mercedes Jones just smacked Noah Puckerman. His lips pursed together as he was trying to piece together what just occured. [And in Puck's mind, this ranks up close to a slurpy facial on the embarrassing scale.] "What the fuck, man?" He cradles his cheek and winces at he rubs the sore flesh.

"I'm not your back up. If you can't get Quinn or Rachel, what in the hell makes you think you can have me?" Her eyes narrow, and she breaths short puffs of air through her nose. "I ain't no rebound, you here?" He doesn't dare try her again. Puck can deal with a deflated ego now, and he's sure to avoid Mercedes---more than before. Because a bruised ego stings, Puckerman knows that now. [And Mercedes has known for years.]


End file.
